Absolute Zero

by Phillip Tomasso

  “How are we looking, Lieutenant?” Meyers asked.

  The planet’s dense atmosphere contained large levels of methane under layers of hydrogen and helium. With the high-temperatures and the amount of pressure, it oftentimes rained diamonds. E.E. built a colony on the planet’s frozen surface. Mining for the precious stones had been going on for roughly the last four years.

  Six months ago, a distress signal reached Euphoric’s Nebula Way Station. There were two mega-constructed space stations beyond Earth. A conglomerate of corporations raised funds and built together the Nova Way Station, which sat between Venus and Earth; the second, fully funded by Euphoric was the Nebula, situated between Mars and Jupiter. The mission, assigned to the Eclipse, which was docked at a Nebula bay, was dispatched as the first rescue response team.

  Easily over six feet tall, Windsor’s muscles filled out the E.E. gunmetal gray uniform nicely. His skin was coffee-bean brown, with even darker eyes. Meyers hand-picked Windsor for the crew, because he was the kind of lieutenant a commander wanted in their corner: competent, creative, and loyal.

  “We’re locked in on the distress beacon, Commander.” Windsor touched a finger to his ear where a transmission bud fit just inside the canal. “It’s a steady beep.”

  “Any luck reaching a contact, Officer Gaines?” she asked.

  “Nay, Commander.” Communications Specialist Nathaniel Gaines sat off to the right. His E.E. uniform was crisp, freshly pressed. The officer kept his blond hair short and spiked in a wave on top. His left eyebrow had a scar slashed through the center where no hair grew. His work area faced a series of monitors, high-definition receivers, and transmitters. “I’ve generated a loop. Our request for a response is always transmitting. If anyone hears the recorded loop, I should suspect they would be compelled to reply, Commander.”

  “Second you hear something, anything, let me know.” The instruction was understood, and Meyers knew she had voiced the command needlessly. The way she saw things, it was better to state the obvious and avoid confusion, just in case.

  “Aye, Commander.” Gains took it in stride, his tone of voice calm, confident.

  “Officer Bachand?”

  “Commander?” Bachand kept his deer-skin brown hair shaved on the sides, long on top and combed back into a ponytail. Although a little extreme, it certainly would not be permitted within ranks of the NAAA. That was the beauty of it though, Meyers realized. This wasn’t the NAAA, it was a private funded mission and although a dress code existed the limits were broad, accommodating, and better fit individual personalities. Growing up as a military brat, some things would definitely take getting used to. For the most part, though, Meyers appreciated the open diversity.

  “Can we keep Eclipse a safe distance, outside the gravitational pull, and still launch our teams to the surface?” Meyers knew the flight from the Nebula bay to Neptune was the easier part of their journey. Launching the first rescue response team through the volatile planet atmosphere was another matter altogether.

  “Aye, Commander. The issue is maintaining a radar-visual with the colony once our squads land.” Bachand pivoted around in his chair. “As you are well aware, Neptune completes a full rotation in just sixteen hours. She’s turning fast on us.”

  “Can we match her speed?” the commander asked.

  “Aye. Working on settings to do just that, Commander. Should be no issue with jockeying along beside her.”

  The one thing Meyers knew better than nearly anything else was formality. She was raised with it. Conversations with her father—when her father had been home to converse with—sounded exactly like sound bites from the bridge of a spacecraft. Always. Their talks came off almost like formal banter. There were times, perhaps too few to recall, when she longed for normal conversation with regular people. She knew how people perceived her. Rigid, stand-offish, and by-the-book. She intimidated people, peers, higher ranks, and subordinates alike. Having overheard others talking, whispering, and laughing together generally left her feeling ostracized and inadequate—a chink in her otherwise impenetrable armor.

  “Even from here, Commander, I can tell the planet’s surface is nothing short of one massive blizzard.” Unflinching, Windsor’s eyes locked on the porthole. “Look at those clouds. The swirl patterns. I can’t imagine landing on that surface. The mining ships were enormous compared to the shuttles our pilots are flying. It isn’t going to be easy at all. Doable, Commander, just not easy.”

  The colony was invisible from space. It was more than likely still invisible once the shuttle breached the atmosphere. The entire colony couldn’t be more than a mere pinprick on the planet’s massive surface. The storms on Neptune were expected. During the briefing before the launch of the mission, they learned about the near constant tempest-like conditions. Hearing about them and then witnessing the vehement condition first-hand were two entirely different things.

  Meyers believed E.E. wanted a success guarantee. She knew the mined diamonds were the thrust of the colony program, but was certain the company she now worked for feared the impact of negative press should anything happen to those stationed on the planet’s volatile surface.

  A guarantee oftentimes proved anything but.

  There were too many variables. Regardless, Meyers had faith in her pilots. Between starfighter patrols around Nebula, Earth, and countless hours spent in flight simulators, the Eclipse crew possessed some serious talent. “Your job will be keeping the Eclipse away from asteroids and moons, and all of that high velocity floating ice.” She arched an eyebrow, her way of providing a visual exclamation point, and then tried a smile. “The squads are well trained.”

  Meyers did not think her smile worked, though. Bachand’s simple: Aye, Commander, sounded more as if he was not sure whether he had just been chastised, or not.

  Meyers leaned on the rail, standing behind Bachand, and relaxed her shoulders. “The opposite side of the planet is where the Great Dark Spot is, anyway. Did you know that storm system has been raging for hundreds of years? The storm was recorded about a hundred and thirty years after the planet was discovered in our solar system. Hasn’t stopped yet. Or let up, for that matter. Winds were logged at thirteen hundred miles per hour. Sustained.”

  “Glad we’re not landing anywhere near that storm front,” Windsor added. He must have sensed his tone as too casual. He sat up straighter, and said, “Commander.”

  With lips pursed, Meyers unfolded her hands and left them at her side. Her subtle attempt at improving the crew’s perspective of her did not seem to be working. “I agree with you, Lieutenant. Unstable ice and rock, and a sea of water and ammonia to contend with … it will prove trying enough, as you said, landing the two shuttles on this side of the planet.”

  Lt. Windsor nodded in non-verbal agreement.

  The crew under her command needed time for adjusting. While loyalty was expected from day one, rapport and camaraderie took time. Missions could last years at a time, and even though respect was fine, she already longed for the kind of friendship she’d witnessed serving on other vessels. She knew, however, it couldn’t be forced. The key was not to sacrifice respect for friendship. At least that was a lesson her father continually impressed on her when she was both in school, and enlisted.

  When E.E. assigned her with this mission, she was given command over two squads. They, like her, were employed by Euphoric. Most of the detail had been recruited directly out of the North American Ground Defense (NAGD), just as she had been from the NAAA.

  The armed para-military squads were essential on any vessel, but the commander was especially thankful having them on this particular mission. The likelihood of anyone attacking a vessel like the Eclipse was barely conceivable. Commander Meyers knew the former NAGD were well-trained pilots and soldiers, and that provided her with plenty of solace. One could never be too careful. Pirates existed—under the guise of Salvage, naturally, but attacks, hijackings, and murder did happen.

  Chapter Two

  Com
mander Anara Meyers stood over the table display inside the War Room. A loose strand of hair kept dropping over her left eye, and with a finger, she kept swiping it over the back of her ear. “This is the last live satellite feed of the mining colony on the planet’s surface,” she said, though the crisp image was self-explanatory.

  “There are seven structures.” Lt. Windsor circled the encampment with a sweeping hand motion. Six structures, joined by enclosed walkways, encircled a large dome. “The smaller three over here are housing, mess hall, gym, that kind of thing. These three are for the mining equipment, a repair shop, and their shuttle. Right here, in the center, this large dome is where they store the mined diamonds.”

  Frigid temperatures made extended outdoor exposure, despite perceived safety inside a spacesuit, dangerous, if not reckless.

  “Where the shuttle is housed, there’s a landing strip, here.” Meyers pointed at the rectangular box on the image. “Captain Stanton. Rivers. We’re launching one shuttle to the surface. Alpha Squad, where do we stand?”

  “Aye, Commander.” Danielle Rivers was in charge of Alpha Squad. Standing straight, hands clasped together in front of her, Rivers nodded with confidence. A stripe of white hair, poliosis, streaked from right temple to behind the ear, shocking otherwise raven-black hair. “Alpha team is prepped, and ready to deploy. I’ve debriefed them with blueprints and dossiers complete with images of each of the miners and specialists stationed inside the colony.”

  Commander Meyers appreciated the dedication Rivers and her team exhibited. “It’s a total of thirty-five people on the planet. Miners and planetary experts. They, folks, are our mission. We are here because we have been unable to establish direct communication with anyone on the planet, within the colony. Obviously, what we are hoping for is a malfunction with the alarm system. A quick fix might be a simple reset, and we turn this ship around and head back home.” That was the unpretentious hope, anyway. “And Captain Stanton?”

  “Aye, Commander.” Adam Stanton, dark hair, broad shoulders, and icy blue eyes, stepped up closer to the display table. He set fingertips onto the table edge. “Beta Squad has four starfighters prepped and armed ready to escort the Alpha Squad to the surface. We’ll recon the immediate area, flying here and here, until the shuttle is safely on the surface and Alpha’s crew is secure inside the colony.”

  The colony’s distress beacon, activated and steadily signaling, started six months ago. The beacon was set up as the colony’s last resort. Whoever initiated the beacon must have realized doing so was like ringing a dinner bell, calling out to pirates from around the Milky Way, and perhaps, beyond.

  Blood in the water. Injured prey.

  The universe, filled with countless predators that survived and thrived on the wounded, was not as safe a place as some might suspect. Priceless diamonds were being mined on Neptune, and there was not a soul in the galaxy that did not know as much.

  The commander pressed the com-link on her wrist. “Officer Bachand?”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  “Estimated time for shuttle launch?”

  “We’ll be in position by zero-one-thirty hours, Commander. This will give the shuttle and her escort the clearest passage from the Eclipse to Neptune’s surface. The best window for launch will between forty-five and seventy-five minutes from now, Commander.”

  “Roger that.” Meyers looked at the group gathered in the War Room. “Any questions?”

  No one had any.

  “Captain Rivers, I’ll be riding down with you and Alpha Squad.”

  Lieutenant Windsor moved forward half a step, a clear objection to the announcement. “But, Commander—”

  A wave of her hand silenced him. “You’ll have control of Eclipse, Lieutenant. I don’t expect we’ll be on the surface long. Won’t take longer than a few hours to assess the issue, search the colony, and return. By this time tomorrow, I’d like to be formulating our journey back home.”

  She left no room for arguments.

  “Anything else? Anyone? Okay. Finish final preparations. We’ll launch the shuttle and escort in sixty minutes. Thank you.”

  As the room cleared, Lieutenant Windsor said, “Commander, if I can have a moment?”

  Chapter Three

  “Commander?” Lt. Windsor did not hide the apparent unease in his tone of voice, but at least waited until the others cleared out of the War Room before voicing his concern. “Permission to speak freely?”

  Anara Meyers thought about stopping her first officer right then, right there, but ground her teeth, and kept her mouth shut. She knew without Windsor saying a word what the conversation would revolve around. He deserved the chance to speak his opinion. It would not change her mind, but allowing him a chance mattered. “Permission granted.”

  “I think you should let the Alpha and Beta Squads handle the initial recon. The distress signal has been active for months. We have no idea what’s been going on down there. Reliable Neptune readings only go back three orbits around the sun. If the ice is melting due to the planet’s tilt and direct location to the sun as it makes its way around, then everything on the surface could be unstable.” Windsor had paid attention during the briefing prior to their dispatch. The risk was real, the undefined planet surface a potential issue.

  Once a century Neptune’s orbit brought the planet close to their sun. Actually, it was a one hundred and sixty-five-year orbit. This made planetary research difficult for climatologists and astrophysicists. The colony would change that, giving scientists first-hand exposure to the elements, and conditions on the planet. Either way, the science teams clearly had their work cut out.

  “I understand the risks, Lieutenant.” She wanted to speak frankly. “We’re a new crew. This is our first major mission working together. I can’t reasonably deploy my people into unknown circumstances and expect them to expose themselves to unknown hazards if I am not willing to subject myself to the same.”

  “But you can. It is your role as commander to make exactly those types of decisions, and your role as commander to keep yourself safe so that you can continue to lead the rest of us in the unlikely, or unexpected event of an emergency,” he said. “I just think—”

  “I appreciate your concern,” she interjected, lips pursed, and she did appreciate his concern. However, her mind was already made up. “I will be joining Alpha Squad, riding in the shuttle. You will take control of the Eclipse until I return. Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”

  He looked as if he might say more, but his jaw set, and he shook his head. “No, Commander.”

  She took a calculated chance and set a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, and then exited the War Room. She wanted a moment alone to mentally prepare for the deployment. She would be a fool if the idea of the mission did not frighten her. The way her belly flip-flopped and fluttered, though, led her to believe she was past fear and bordering on sheer panic.

  _____

  Captain Danielle Rivers sat at the shuttle controls, and her First Lieutenant, Murray Bell strapped himself in beside her, while Commander Anara Meyers rode in the shuttle’s jump seat. Secured in the back hull were the other two Alpha Squad crew members, Lt. Gordon O’Hearne, and the Field Medic, Lt. Marshall Weber.

  Meyers would be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, she felt slightly out of place. The jump seat, positioned behind co-pilot Lt. Bell, faced the wall instead of the front windshield. She could not recall the last time she was not a lead pilot. It had to have been back when she first enlisted in the NAAA. Putting as positive a spin on the experience as possible, Meyers decided she would use the time and observe her crew operate.

  The first time the commander had ever flown a ship, it had been a two-person fighter. Her father co-piloted in the seat beside her. She was less nervous about navigating the galaxy than she was about having him next to her, analyzing and commenting on her every move, decision, and indecision. The retired admiral had been gentler than expected, surprisingly. He remained
silent and observed, adding little by way of vocal suggestions about the way she flew the fighter. It was only after they returned to Nova, and over hot drinks, when he finally provide her with usable and thoughtful feedback. It fit, though, because the admiral always found ways to surprise her. Good. Bad. Indifferent. The man had a way of always doing the unexpected.

  “Officer Bachand, this is Alpha Squad.” Rivers manually punched out commands on the panel in front of her. Bell mirrored his captain, relaying control readings while his fingers entered information to the navigation system.

  “Alpha Squad, go ahead.”

  Rivers sucked in a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “Requesting clearance for takeoff.”

  The shuttle, made for transporting cargo, was an open-floor design. This left room for filling the vessel with equipment and, or personnel. Mounted seats with safety harnesses lined the starboard and port sides of the ship. The shuttle was nothing like the Eclipse. While the Eclipse was a long shaft with a non-rotating wheel and four engine turbines at the stern, the shuttle was boxy, almost rectangular; however, neither was made for extreme speed or fancy maneuvers. The Eclipse was made with unparalleled power and could hit hyper speed with ease; the shuttle seemed almost to float toward any targeted destination.

  “Alpha Squad? This is Eclipse control. You are now clear for takeoff in five, four, three, two, and go.”

  “All systems a-go,” Bell said.

  “Roger that.” Rivers pushed forward on the control wheel while her feet manipulated the rudder pedals. “And we are dropping from the belly of the Eclipse in three, two . . . Hang on, Commander.”

  Meyers re-checked the taut belt strapped across her shoulder and chest. Again came the unsettling flutter in her belly, and as casually as she could, she put her arm across her stomach. Meyers could not tell if the sensation came from the idea of landing on a mostly uncharted planet, or if it stemmed from the idea that an entire colony had not been heard from in half a year. Quite possibly, it was an off-balance combination of both. If she were honest, neither idea was very promising. Remaining optimistic seemed unlikely.